


Prospective Partnership

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Miss Marple - Agatha Christie
Genre: Community: dw_straybunnies, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha rescues a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Right Place at the Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> From a [dw_straybunnies](dw-straybunnies.livejournal.com) prompt: _[Martha meets a character played by Peter Davison](http://dw-straybunnies.livejournal.com/31108.html)_.
> 
> Lance was played by Peter Davison in the 1984 BBC adaptation of A Pocket Full of Rye.

In the way of things, it hadn't been a particularly massive landslip — a relatively small section of the mountainside had decided to slide a few feet downhill, dislodging one or two boulders. But it had been big enough to claim one victim: a man of about thirty, tanned and with his hair bleached by the sun, was lying on top of the rubble, with one leg disappearing under the scree. As Martha rounded the corner of the path and saw the scene, he waved to her. She stopped and tried to get her breath back. 

"No need to hurry," he called to her. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Martha swallowed. "I'll try and get to you," she shouted back. 

She walked, slowly, to the edge of the disturbed area, and put an experimental foot on a boulder. It didn't seem inclined to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward, putting more weight on it, and felt it shift under her foot. As she threw herself back, the boulder slid downhill several feet, stones and soil rattling in its wake, before coming once more to a halt. 

She thought briefly. Perhaps if she spread her weight, that might help. Dropping to her hands and knees, she advanced once more onto the landslip, moving slowly. The rocks and gravel dug into her, and shifted uneasily as she felt for each comparatively secure footing. The last few yards she had to wriggle on her stomach. 

"I heard you calling," she said, bending over him and examining the bits of him she could reach. Arms and left leg sound, no broken ribs, various minor scratches and contusions. And, though this wasn't strictly relevant, she couldn't help noticing his good looks and open, friendly face. 

"What happened?" she asked. 

"I was prospecting," he said. "Thought there might be a vein of ore up here. Took one risk too many and brought the mountain down on me." 

Martha looked up at where the landslip appeared to have started. 

"Lucky I was here," she said. "Let's have a look at that leg." 

Freeing the prospector's right leg from the rockfall was a long, slow job. Whatever tools he'd brought with him were buried under the stones, and Martha had to lever heavy boulders out and scrape away gravel with her bare hands. By the time she'd finished, her own fingers were scratched and bleeding, but she forced herself to concentrate on the stranger's injuries. With the aid of a knife he'd produced from his pocket, she cut his trouserleg open and made her examination. 

"Don't think anything's broken," she said. "You're lucky. It's just a dislocation." 

"'Just' a dislocation?" 

"Yeah." Martha tried to sound more confident than she felt. "If I can straighten the leg it'll probably snap back into place. I'm afraid it'll hurt. Ready?" 

He nodded. "Ready." 

Martha took a deep breath, and set to work. 

*

"That hurt like hell," the prospector said. 

"I'm sorry. It had to be done." Martha looked around for something to use as a splint, but nothing was apparent. "It's getting late. We need to get you out of here." 

"My camp isn't far away. Down there." 

Martha looked in the indicated direction, but saw nothing. "Right. Don't try to get up. We need to get out of these rocks first." 

"Don't worry. I saw how you got in." He began to drag himself carefully across the landslide. "If this tears the seat out of my trousers I won't be surprised in the least." 

"Know the feeling," Martha said, keeping pace with him. 

Once they'd reached reasonably solid ground, the man tried to climb to his feet, but his injured leg obviously wasn't in a condition to take the load. 

"Here." Martha held out her hand. "You'll have to lean on me." 

She pulled him up. He put one arm around her shoulders. 

"This way," he said. 

"I hope your camp isn't too far." 

"We'll get there before dark, even like this." 

"Well, once we do, you'll have to take things easy for at least a week. No more prospecting until the swelling's gone down. Is there anyone there who can look after you? I mean, are you part of an expedition or something?" 

He shook his head. "No. It's just me. If I need anything I go down to the village." 

"Well, you won't be doing that now." Martha considered the situation. "I'll need to stay around at least for tonight. Maybe a few days." 

"You know, I'm really behaving shockingly badly. For one thing, you've almost certainly saved my life. And now you're planning to drop whatever you're doing and come and nurse me. And I haven't even introduced myself properly." He came to a halt, and held out his free hand. "Lancelot Fortescue. Call me Lance."


	2. Pillow Talk

Several days later, Martha found she was getting on rather well with Lance. 

"What we just did..." she began, and found she was still out of breath. She let her head fall back on the crude pillow and started again. "What we just did was a gross breach of what a doctor's supposed to do with their patient. It's a good job the General Medical Council's never going to find out." 

Lance leaned over and kissed her once again. "I won't tell them if you won't." 

Martha grinned. "They wouldn't believe me if I did tell them." 

"And do I pass the physical examination?" 

"Top marks. You're in very good shape. Just as long as you go easy on that knee for the next couple of weeks." 

"It's you I've got to thank for that. If you hadn't happened by I'd still be there — or my bones would. It's very lucky you happened to be passing." 

As ever when he approached the topic of how she'd come to be 'just passing' halfway up a deserted mountain in what she now knew was Tanganyika, Martha took steps to change the subject. 

"Well, don't take risks like that again," she said. "You shouldn't go prospecting on your own. Get a partner or something." 

"A partner, eh?" He squeezed her hand. "I was wondering if I'd already found one." 

"Lance!" 

"I'm afraid that sort of thing runs in the family. Did I ever tell you about my brother? Went down with pneumonia and had to have a nurse come in to look after him. He ended up marrying the girl. Of course, he could afford to." 

"Meaning you can't?" Martha returned the squeeze. "Don't worry. It wouldn't have worked out." 

"Maybe not." He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her, his face unreadable in the moonlight. "Besides, I don't know anything about you, do I? You might be married already." 

"I wish." The words were out of Martha's mouth before she could stop them. 

"Ah, so there is someone?" 

"Not like that! Look, he's just a friend." 

"But you'd prefer it if he was something more?" 

Martha sighed. "It isn't going to happen. He never even notices me." 

"Then he's either blind or an idiot." Lance pulled the threadbare sheet back and looked her up and down appreciatively. "You're the most beautiful girl in Tanganyika. An African Venus." 

"Give over." 

"I mean it. And clever, too. You're a very remarkable woman. What's your secret, Martha Jones?" 

"My secret?" Martha felt her heart beating a little faster. 

"You didn't drop out of the sky." His grip on her hand tightened. "And you're certainly not a local girl. Where do you come from? And what are you and this partner of yours really looking for in these mountains?" 

"I told you, I'm from London," she said. "And we're not looking for anything. We're just travellers." 

"But can I be sure of that? Look at it from my position." There was an intensity to his tone. "I'm prospecting for valuable minerals, and I run into you right on top of a promising lode. Now you tell me you aren't working alone. How do I know this partner of yours didn't send you to spy on me and jump my claim?" 

"He wouldn't be interested. He's not into mining and mineral rights and all that." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise!" 

For a moment, she was afraid he'd press the point. If he asked many more questions about the Doctor, she wouldn't be able to come up with answers he'd believe. His eyes held hers, still hard and searching. 

"I believe you," he said eventually. "Friends?" 

"Friends," Martha said. She kissed him, feeling the brief moment of tension dissolve. "With benefits." 

*

The call from the Doctor came through a couple of days later. Fortunately Martha wasn't with Lance at the time, so she didn't have to come up with an explanation of what her mobile telephone was or why she was carrying it. She hurried back to the camp, and told him she had to go. He didn't seem surprised. 

"You said it wouldn't have worked out, didn't you?" he said. "I can see why. One message from him and off you run, just like that. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine now, thanks to you." 

"As long as you don't do anything strenuous for the next week. And try to go easy on the stupid risks, OK?" 

"That's not the sort of man I am, I'm afraid." He kissed her tenderly. "Goodbye, Martha Jones." 

Martha returned the kiss. "Goodbye, Lance Fortescue." 

She set off down the path, heading for the village as the Doctor had told her. At the first bend, she turned back and waved, then headed on, turning the events of the last week over in her head. Lance had been a good companion for nearly all the time they'd spent together, and she couldn't think of any decision she'd have made differently. But that moment on their first night together still gave her pause. She'd been completely in his power, for the first time since they'd met, and it surely wasn't a coincidence that he'd chosen that moment to press his questions. If she hadn't been able to convince him that she wasn't a threat to his mining claims, what might have happened to her? 

She walked on, uncertain whether she was worrying herself with completely imaginary dangers, or whether she had just had a narrow escape. 


End file.
